


Flirting with Danger

by Ralkana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable baby badass Phil Coulson is more accurate, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, BAMF Phil Coulson, First Meetings, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:38:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton's never been into bad boys, and then he meets a certain townie one night after the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flirting with Danger

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing with them.
> 
> Inspired by [this article](http://www.laweekly.com/2013-05-30/film-tv/clark-gregg-agents-of-shield/), in which Clark Gregg refers to his less-than-angelic past, and then gives no details, the tease.
> 
> First posted on tumblr [here](http://ralkana.tumblr.com/post/51734816127/clark-gregg-the-new-king-of-the-whedonverse).

 

Clint whistled tunelessly as he put his bow up, stretching muscles that were starting to ache in the pleasant, good-show way. He'd made every shot tonight, not just to the audience's satisfaction, but to Trick's as well, and that meant it was going to stay a good night.

Someone pounded on the door of the trailer he shared with Barney and a couple of the roustabouts, and Clint jumped.

"Hey, kid, there's a kid out here looking for you!" the gruff voice of Yuri, their strongman, called out.

Clint raised his eyebrow, pausing in the act of stripping off his t-shirt. Kid meant guy; Yuri'd have said if it was a girl.

Clint had slowly come to the understanding that he was interested in both the boy and girl townies that sometimes waited for him after a show, and it had been a surprise -- though maybe it shouldn't have been -- to realize that nobody in the circus cared. Well, except for Barney, but he wasn't thinking about that.

"Thanks, Yuri! Be right there."

It only took him a minute to drag a comb through his hair and shove his feet into his battered sneakers, and then he made his way to the edge of the circle of trailers that made up their camp.

There was a guy waiting for him in the shadows, mostly distinguishable by the sweet reek of weed and the cherry red spark at the end of the joint.

Clint eyed it as the guy offered it to him.

"No, thanks."

His work required absolute perfection, and he wasn't about to do anything that might fuck with that.

Shadow Guy shrugged his shoulders and flicked what was left -- practically nothing anyway -- to the ground, grinding it under the heel of a heavy boot.

"Suit yourself," he said, his voice a little rough from the joint. He stepped out of the shadows.

He was about the same size as Clint, maybe a little bit bigger and a couple of years older, and he wore jeans and a black leather jacket over a dark t-shirt. His hair was brown and messy, and Clint might've called him cute, but there was something hard about the lines of his mouth, and the curve of his nose suggested he'd been in at least one fight.

His eyes were gorgeous in the dim light, clear and blue and no less sharp because of the weed as they raked hungrily over Clint.

"That was amazing, what you did earlier," he said appreciatively, and Clint shrugged.

"That's my name," he said with a cocky grin. "The Amazing Hawkeye."

Those blue eyes lit with humor, and the guy's lip curled in a smirk.

"That's not your name."

Clint crossed his arms over his chest, hoping it looked cool and aloof and not defensive. "Why should I tell you?"

The guy stepped closer, and Clint breathed in a hint of cologne under the lingering smell of the joint.

"Because I'm asking," he said, his voice deepening into something smooth and hungry as he looked up into Clint's eyes through incredibly thick lashes.

Clint's breath caught. "I -- it's Clint," he said, cursing the nervous stutter in his voice.

That tiny smile widened. "Hello, Clint," he murmured in that same silky voice, and Clint swallowed roughly.

"What's yours?" he asked, praying his voice came out steady, and for the first time, a hint of uncertainty flickered in the guy's eyes, but it was gone before it was even fully there.

"Phil," he said carelessly, and Clint couldn't quite hide his smirk.

_Pretty hard to be a badass with a name like Phil_ , he thought.

Phil's eyes went flat and cool, his lips a hard line. "You laughing at me?"

"I... no."

That cool blue gaze flicked down and up Clint's body once more.

"Good. Wanna go for a ride, kid?"

Clint glared at him. "It's Clint. Or Hawkeye. Not kid."

Phil smiled, approval clear in his expression. "C'mon, Hawk. Let's go."

He turned and walked toward the public parking area without waiting to see if Clint would follow him. Clint watched his back for a moment, appreciating the way his jeans hugged his ass, and then he shrugged and walked after him. If the guy tried something he didn't want, Clint knew he could take care of himself, even if Phil was bigger than him and had dangerous eyes.

Clint was small, but he was all muscle.

He stopped, awestruck, at the edge of the shadows. A gorgeous cherry-red 'Vette sat gleaming in the murky light of the parking area.

"Jesus," he breathed.

Phil glanced back, pride glimmering in his eyes.

"You just... you have _that_ and you just left it out here?"

"She had eyes on her the whole time," Phil replied, and Clint wondered who he'd paid -- or threatened -- to watch it. Her.

Phil opened the passenger door and waved him in, and Clint smirked at the chivalrous gesture even as he settled himself into the supple seat and breathed in. The car _smelled_ expensive, and Clint wondered if he was gonna end up in jail for riding in a stolen car.

"She really yours?" he asked suspiciously, and Phil shrugged. Clint's mouth went dry at the smooth motion of Phil's shoulders in the leather of his jacket.

"Borrowed her for the night," he said easily. "She's a beautiful lady, and she deserves to be driven, not shut up in some garage to be stared at all day."

He ran his hand lovingly over the glossy paint, and Clint swallowed nervously at the thought of those long fingers on his skin. The possibility of ending up in the county lockup for the night suddenly didn't seem so bad.

Phil eased into the driver's seat.

"I can't be gone _too_ long," Clint said quietly, and Phil smirked at him.

"What good are rules, Hawk," he asked as he turned the key and the engine purred to life, "If you don't break them every once in a while?"

**END**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Blast From The Past](https://archiveofourown.org/works/825251) by [ShadowHaloedAngel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel/pseuds/ShadowHaloedAngel)




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